John Bowring Poems

When first the Almighty Father's thought
Created man,-how wondrously
His virtue-giving spirit wrought
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Though the stream of being floweth
Calmly to the sea of peace,
Though the weary pilgrim goeth
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A house to God the Monarch built,
For altars high and incen ...
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With gentle words and gracious look,
The loving Saviour spoke and smiled;
When in His welcoming arms He took
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The Life
of Christ!-that loveliest book,
Of all man's trust, the history;
On which admiring ages look
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The summer was made by Thee,
There's joy and hope in its birth,
There's joy in its memory,
'Tis the festival of earth.
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'Teach us to pray!' attentive at His word,
His true disciples listened to their Lord.
And these the gracious sounds which He repeated:
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The Gospel is preached to the poor;
They long were abandoned and lone:
They now are forgotten no more-
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'Tis not Thy terrors, Lord! Thy dreadful frown,
Which keep my step in duty's narrow path;
'Tis not the awful threatenings of Thy wrath,-
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'Peace!' shall the world out-wearied ever see
Its universal reign? Will states, will kings,
Put down those murderous and unholy things
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